CHAPTER XXVII
IN DESPERATE PLIGHT
At daylight the truth was known. The greatest Indian rising of two decadeshad begun.
The Bad-Lands had entered upon a period of slaughter, of wanton massacre,which was to form one of the bloodiest pages in the history of Indianwarfare.
The first to realize the full terror of the situation were the troops inthe small trader's fort overlooking the Reservations. They awoke to findthemselves hemmed in by a vast army of red-skinned warriors, entirely cutoff from the outside world. The climax of their discovery was reached whenan attempt was made to dispatch a telegraphic message to headquarters. Thewire was cut.
The next to grasp the situation were the citizens of Beacon Crossing. Therailroad track was destroyed, and all telegraphic communication was cutoff. A horde of warriors from Pine Ridge Reservation, some thousandsstrong, threatened the township from the east, thus cutting them off fromthe settlers on the plains.
The full knowledge of these things came in driblets to the refugeesgathering at White River Farm, filtering through piece by piece as eachparty came in. But as yet not an Indian had shown himself in the vicinityof the farm. Already twelve families had sought the shelter of Rube'sstockade. And all was in readiness for the siege.
The morning passed, and still two families lying farther out than all theothers had not yet arrived. It was an anxious waiting.
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when at last one of the missingparties appeared on the horizon. It was at once seen that the two vehicleswere being driven at a desperate pace. They were approaching from thenorth, and even at that distance the lookout could see the driversflogging their horses into a furious gallop.
Seth passed the order to stand by. The defenders responded, and thestockade immediately bristled with rifles.
The wagons came on. Then suddenly a small party of Indians appeared overthe horizon, racing in hot pursuit. But evidently the view of the farmaltered their plans, for they reined in, halted, and, a moment later,wheeling about, vanished whence they came.
Seth, watching from the top of the stockade, realized something of thesignificance of their movements. And far graver fears than the manoeuvreseemed to warrant assailed him.
The late arrivals brought further bad tidings. The Indians on the CheyenneRiver Reservation were out, and working in concert with the others. It isa bad business when Indian tribes band together against a common foe.There was consternation among the women when they heard the news. The mensmiled grimly, but there was no lightness in their hearts.
The time of waiting dragged wearily. Every one within the stockade feltthe suspense to be far worse than the fiercest fighting. The intangiblethreat of this unnatural calm was dreadful. Still, the respite was notwithout its uses. Defences were strengthened with earthworks hastilythrown up on the inside of the stockade, and the upper rooms of the housewere made ready for a selected firing party, whilst the women made everypreparation for the comfort of their men.
Nevil Steyne moved about bearing his share in the labors. He was moroselysilent, and his presence caused much speculation amongst those who knewnothing of what had happened on the previous night. Seth's replies whenquestioned on the subject were evasive. Rube and Parker were no wiser thanthe rest, except that Seth had told them that Nevil was his prisoner, andmust on no account be allowed to escape.
The gray spring twilight had settled over the plains. Still the lastfamily, Joe Smith and his belongings, had not come in. Seth intended togive them their chance up to the very last, before he finally closed thegates. As the sun dropped he dispatched four mounted men to act asvedettes. They took up their positions a mile out from the farm, withorders to fire two shots in quick succession on sight of any Indians, andthen to ride in with all speed.
After delivering his instructions he took up his position upon thestockade and watched them go. He was very anxious for the safety of JoeSmith; his place was nearly ten miles out, and away to the northeast. Heknew that if the northern Indians were out it was quite possible that theold man had been cut off.
Now, as the day drew to a close, something of the gloomy prospect beforethem all seemed to have entered his soul. He was no alarmist, but he knewonly too well the meaning of a big general Indian rising. The horrors hehad witnessed in his early days were strong upon him, and the presence ofall these white women under his charge weighed sorely. Nor did he gleanmuch satisfaction from the thought that, at least, should disaster fallupon them he still had power to punish the man whom he knew to be theauthor of all this trouble. It would be poor consolation.
The darkness was growing. Now the reflection of Indian fires could be seenin almost every direction. There seemed to be a perfect ring of them, inthe distance, around the farm.
He was disturbed in his gloomy reverie by the sound of some one scramblingup the newly-made earthworks to his side. It was Rosebud.
She took her seat at his side in silence. She was clad in her old prairieriding-habit of canvas, strong and rough, and eminently suited to thepresent condition of things. They had hardly met since the first alarm, sobusy had everybody been. But now that all was ready the final lull beforethe breaking of the storm had provided even the busiest with leisure. Thegirl's first words came abruptly, and displayed her wonderful faith in theman to whom they all looked for help and protection.
"Shall we pull through, Seth?" she asked.
"Can't say, Rosie."
The man's reply was spoken slowly.
"Poor auntie!" Rosebud went on. "I can't help thinking of her. I wish I'dnever said anything about 'scalping' to her. But she's very good andbrave. She hasn't complained, and she's worked as hard as anybody. Do youknow, I believe, now she's got over the first shock of it, she ratherenjoys it. What do you think she said to me half an hour ago? She said,with such a smile, 'When I get home I shall have something to tell them.I'm keeping a diary.' Like a fool I said, 'You aren't home yet, auntie.' Isaid it without thinking. What do you suppose she replied?"
"Can't guess."
"Oh, I'll get home all right. Mr. Seth 'll see to that."
But Seth was impervious to the compliment. The girl smilingly watched hissombre face out of the corners of her eyes. There was no responsivesmile.
"It's jest them things make it hard," he said, with something very like asigh.
Rosebud's face had become serious. Her thoughts were hard at work.
"Is it as bad as that?" she asked presently.
"'Tain't no use lookin' at it easy. We're facin' the music--hard--thistime. But we ain't done yet. Not by a sight. It's kind o' lucky we've laidin a big store of ammunition an' things."
It was dark by now, except for the glow of Indian fires, which gave aweird light on all sides.
Rosebud drew closer to the man's side. Her action passed unnoticed. Hiseyes were intent upon the dark horizon. He was watching, watching, withevery faculty alert. He was listening, his ears ready to catch thefaintest sound.
"It would be all right if only they could have sent word to theheadquarters of the troops, I s'pose," the girl said thoughtfully. "Justfancy the Indians cutting the telegraph wires and destroying therailway."
"Yup. Guess they've had all winter to get things settled," Seth respondedindifferently, while he turned a keen ear to windward.
"What are you listening for?" asked Rosebud, quickly.
"General's out scoutin'."
"Good old General!"
"Yes, he'll locate the Injuns when they git around."
But just then Rosebud was thinking of other things.
"Why can't you find some one who will try to get through to the troops? Imean the headquarters?"
Seth shook his head.
"Can't spare a single man," he said conclusively. "I 'lows no white folk'ud get through anyways. An' we ain't got an Injun, an' if we had Iwouldn't trust him no more'n I'd trust a 'rattler.' No, Rosie, gal, we'vegot to fight this out on our own. An' make no sort o' mistake we're goin'to fight good an' hard. I've fi
ggered to hold this place fer two weeks an'more. That's how I've figgered."
It was the final repetition which filled Rosebud with misgivings. Sherealized the man's doubt. Suddenly she slipped a hand through his arm, andit gently closed over one of his. Her soft eyes were raised to his face asshe put another question in a low tone.
"And if we go under, Seth?"
The man moved uneasily, but the little hand retained its hold of his.
"What then?"
Seth cleared his throat, but remained silent.
"What then?" the girl persisted.
"Don't ask me."
"I've thought once or twice of my poor father and mother," Rosebud saidpresently. "I was wondering what happened to them at--at the end."
Seth eyed the girl for a second. His face was troubled.
"I've a notion he was killed by the Injuns," he said.
"And mother?"
"Can't jest say. I don't fancy, though, he let the brutes worrit herany."
There was another pause. With an involuntary movement Rosebud's handtightened trustfully upon his.
"I think father was right--to do that," she said simply.
The man nodded.
The next moment he was kneeling, his body bending forward, and his eyesstraining in the direction of the horizon.
"What is it?" the girl asked.
"Ther's something movin'."
But Rosebud could hear nothing. Still she was content to accept hisassurance.
"It's wheels," he said after a few moments.
"Is it Joe Smith's outfit?"
"Yup."
They both listened. The girl could now hear the faintest possible rattleof wheels. Suddenly she turned upon him. Her breath was coming quickly.She was smiling, and her eyes were soft under cover of the dim starlight.
"Seth, I want you to let me do something. In the old days you used to bemy dear old 'daddy.' You used to scold me when I did wrong. You used toget angry with me, and I used to get more angry with you. Since I've grownup, of course, things have changed, haven't they?"
"Yes." The man looked into her face wonderingly.
"Well, daddy dear," the girl laughed nervously. "Maybe when the troublebegins I shan't see much of you. You'll be busy, and so will I. It's peacenow, and I just want you to fall back into the old way. I want you for my'daddy'--my dear, dear old 'daddy'--just for these few minutes. I want tobe the silly scatterbrain I used to be."
"I ain't a heap at guessin', Rosie," Seth said doubtfully, but smilingtenderly at the upturned face.
"No, you never were." Rosebud gave a queer little laugh. "Well, I justwant you to let me ride out and meet dear old Mrs. Smith. You know what anervous old dear she is. I just thought if I rode out it might brightenher up. You see, she'd think the danger less, if a woman came to meether."
"Wal, I won't say you no, gal," Seth replied gravely. "Guess it ain'tright. But ther' ain't a heap of danger. Y' see in them old days I mostgener'ly let you do as you notioned," he finished up with a shadowysmile.
"Dear old daddy!" Rosebud squeezed his arm with both her hands.
"Ther' be off, an' git your plug saddled, or mebbe I'll change my mind."The man could stand the temptation no longer. He gently released himself,and the girl moved as though to descend. But she altered her mind.Fortunately neither could see the other's face distinctly.
"Seth," she said, with forced brightness, "in the old days when I askedyour permission for anything and you gave it to me you--you didn't let mego like that. It was customary for me to show my gratitude--like--likethis."
She suddenly leant forward and imprinted a swift kiss on the man's thincheek. And before he could reply, or even move, she had clambered downfrom the wall and made off. Nor was it until he heard her horse gallopingout of the stockade, which occurred suspiciously soon after her leavinghim, that he became aware that his cheek was wet with tears that had notbeen of his shedding.